The End
"I have written much less than most people who write; but I have drunk much more than most people who drink." - Guy Debord
Thank you DCDrinks fans.
Reviews, rantlets and ribald on all things alcoholic.
"I have written much less than most people who write; but I have drunk much more than most people who drink." - Guy Debord
In the past two weeks I've met more Muslims that in my entire life. At first, I thought they were going to go all Ian McKaye on me when I mentioned that I needed a beer after a long day working in the tropics of Indonesia and Malaysia, but I was wrong ... sort of.
At DCDrinks we write for Drinkers, capital "D". We have scoured recipe books from 1911 for the first jello shooters; We have experimented by making Creme de Menthe and still realized there is no way to make the Stinger taste remotely good; We have cried at a perfectly made Martini, cold rim beckoning our quivering lips; We have lined up 130+ proof ryes to taste and pass out in pursuit of finding the exact proof that one reaches Nirvana; We have eschewed flavorless beverages and crowned craft producers of the world king; We have even argued how much pulp to put in a Gin & Juice; We are brothers and sisters bound to the glass, mug and cup, feverishly driven by the pursuit of drinking the very best booze we can.
I'm still hungover. The day-after the night-before party may have contributed to the mild nausea, aches and pangs I feel. Magnums of Gosset Champagne, Alto Moncayo (16.5% alcohol!) Garnacha and good old Thomas Handy Rye are all to blame. But I'm not even slightly detered.
This year for my Gift Giving Guide, "Classic" is the theme. Classics never go out of style and are sure to impress the boozehound you're buying for. OK, the truth is that this is my own Christmas wish list, so people take note!
Now that we've recovered from pounding Dogfish Head 90-minute I.P.A.'s, Manhattans and (gulp) 137 proof rye whisky, its time to tell the tale of Repeal Day.
As a drinker, the date December 5th should ring a warm tone in your soul. For teetotalers and prudes who don't know, December 5th, 1933 was when the 18th Amendment (Prohibition) was repealed by the lovely 21st Amendment---ushering in freedom and stamping out gangsterism for a generation. It's a juicy example of democracy in action and worth a proper celebration.
As a bartender, I've become accustomed to avoiding talking to drunken idiots. While relatives stewed in egg nog and Miller Lite pose an entirely different challenge, there is something to learn from those of us who do it for a living.
Apparently that's a known truism among the restaurant-working set, but I saw it for myself tonight at Smirnoff's hot sneak preview of the new James Bond movie, Casino Royale.
Don't know exactly what to order when you're ordering wine? Here's a tip from a professional: you look like a prick when you improvise. Cut it out.
My favorite new drink is a riff on a very, very old one: the Apple Ginger Sangaree*.
"The important thing is the rhythm. Always have rhythm in your shaking. Now a Manhattan you shake to fox-trot time, a Bronx to two-step time, a dry martini you always shake to waltz time." - Nick Charles in The Thin Man (1934)
Back in the year 2000, Peru was the first Third World country I'd ever visited. It was the first place I drove at 65 miles per hour wasted out of my gourd, barreling down lane-less highways past trucks with no fenders and fewer headlights. It was a three week haze of lemon-juice-cooked seafood, eye-searing poverty, and altitude sickness.
Pisco SourI'd add one thing to that: you should shake that shit until your hand bones ache with cold and you have to pry your fingers from the ice-caked metal. Otherwise, you've done it wrong. The raw egg needs to be destroyed, and there's no other way to do it.
1½ oz. Pisco Brandy
3/4 oz. Fresh Lemon
1 oz. Simple Syrup
Several drops of Angostura Bitters
One Small Egg White
Shake all ingredients with ice and strain into a small cocktail glass. Sprinkle a few dashes of Angostura Bitters on the foam created by the egg whites.
Michael Blaylock is the winemaker for Quady Winery, a premium winery in Madera, California that is producing remarkable aperitifs and offbeat but serious dessert wines. With what Michael describes as "an alchemists' alliance," he has worked with vineyard owner Andrew Quady for 23 years to create a twist on older more traditional-styled wines or obscure varietals. Quady's Vya Vermouths have put vermouth back on the map and given us OCD Martini Drinkers a new reason to obssess.
Here at DCDrinks our heroes are the greats, from Professor Jerry Thomas to Gary Regan. One lesser known legendary mixologist is the late David A. Embury, author of the seminal "The Fine Art of Mixing Drinks".
I'm going to say it even if no one else will. Secretly and passionately, your bartender hates your f-ing guts. Yes, I mean you. He or she loves your money but if you're prone to commit one or more of the following bar faux pas--and be honest with your self--then you're the bane of the barman.
It was mid-day at a resort just south of Castries in St. Lucia and a round, pink-faced British kid was tugging at my leg for a rematch. I'd just mercilessly beat him in a game of giant-sized chess (the pieces themselves were bigger than the youth) and the teary-eyed tyke sought revenge. I obliged. What's better than beating a suckling youth once in a game of skill? Doing it twice.
I have mixed feelings about 90-year-old Hoy Wong, the oldest barman in the best drinking town in the United States of America. While he has served drinkers from John Lennon to Joe Di Maggio to Marilyn Monroe, he himself quit drinking 30 years ago.
If you were reading along in a bar recipe book and as a third and fourth ingredient it read, "Three drops Red Dye #40, 1/2 oz. of Corn Syrup" you'd close the book and wing it from the balcony like a foam boommerang faster than I can say polypropylene.
I don't know, maybe my posts are growing more and more socially conservative but I have to admit that as a bartender I've seen people at their absolute worst.
Answer this, margarita purists: if margarita premix is so evil, why is the process of squeezing enough limes for a decent-sized party so f'n hard?
ex-pec-to-rate v.
Falsehood number one: America is prudish about drinking while the rest of the world finds it perfectly normal to get so blotto that they end up punching a fist through some drywall and waking up next to a trollop named Tammy who smokes menthols. This is the typical line that you hear from foreigners time and again. Ms. Mimi in New York, a British journalist-come-stripper, echoes that sentiment:
"America - It's OK to get drunk. It's OK to have casual sex with some arsehole you wouldn't even let lick your shoes in the morning. It's OK to get so fucked up you fall asleep on the toilet. That's living sweetie. It's fine to fall in a bush and laugh about it the next day. Tell your colleagues. It doesn't mean you can't do your job, you're less of a person, you're not 'marriageable' material. It means you need to get a fucking promotion. Anyone who can drink with me and make it into work at 9am deserves a better job. This country needs to loosen up a little."But my anecdotal evidence tells me we have loosened up.
Isaac and I aren't dead. He's busy working as sommelier/bar manager with a hot new DC restaurant (shhh ... to open Memorial Day weeked) and I'm preparing for my annual Chesapeake sailing trip.
A modern dilemma for a modern drinker: you order your favorite alcoholic beverage and what clinks in front of you is a monstrous bucket-like abomination that offends all your senses. You sit on your stool, stumped with disappointment.
Gin, vermouth, lemon peel, and a dash of orange bitters. Couldn't be easier, right? Wrong. Food & Wine magazine hailed 2005 as "The Year of the Cocktail", but DC Drinks now declares 2006 as the year of the OCD cocktail. Thank christ we've arrived. Let's start with the Martini.
Ever googled a bitters recipe, or wanted to know about the world of Brandy? If you were lucky enough to find Robert Hess's website http://www.drinkboy.com/, chances are you found satisfication.
I remember the diatribes that erupted when Chef Rick Bayless endorsed Burger King's chicken sandwiches. It wasn't long until some unfurled the banner of gastronomic purity and barked, "sell out," which is one of the most meaningless terms I've ever encountered in the gastronomic world.
Colin and Dimi, the Travel Channel's Cocktail Kings, deserve their royal titles, but should spend less of their 30-minute program on bullshit adventure activities and more on their field of expertise.
Ketel One – The Motivator
I used to hum Fly to the Angels by Slaughter when no one was looking. I used to think Lindsay Lohan was hot. And I used to drink vodka. I'm now only ashamed of one of those things: drinking vodka.
Just picked up a bottle of Jon, Mark and Robbo's whiskey, "The Smokey Peaty One". Following the same marketing philosophy as Nantucket Nectars fruit juices and Ben 'n' Jerry's ice cream, these three "regular guys" are trying to change the face of scotch. First off, who the hell doesn't like fun-lovin', whiskey-swillin' lads who decided to make their vice, er, hobby, into their careers? Second, it gives the whiskey buyer something that every other scotch has failed to do: be unintimidating to the novice. Genius. And their company was only launched in June of 2005! Wait, how long has scotch been around with its complicated regions, agings, labels and descriptions without doing this?
Half the art of becoming a bartender is lying your way through the door. I got my first bartending job after the owner of a restaurant I waited tables at asked if I had bartended. The previous bartender had just quit. Without hesitation, I nodded yes.
We recently got together with a motley crue of whiskey geeks, restaurant critics, bar managers and modern drunkards at Bourbon restaurant in Adams Morgan in what could be the most ad hoc, randomly-chosen whiskey tasting on historical record. Most whiskies listed were discovered by wine distributor, Jase Viennan, in dingy liquor stores from Anacostia to Baltimore.
You walk up to a bar and order, "Jim Beam, rocks." You pause, the bartender pauses. She replies, "We have Jack."
Imagine a world in which the only wines were "dry" whites, distant, dumbed-down, derivations of a French Chardonnay. With the exception of Guinness (a stout) and Bass (an ale), all the widely known international beers are of the same type (very distant, dumbed down, derivatives of Pilsener lager, with little to distinguish one from another). - Michael Jackson
"Time and time again men and women who might ordinarily have drunk a pint or two of beer drank a pint or two of gin instead, often with disastrous consequences." - Jessica Warner, from her book, Craze
I'm no historian, but I find it fascinating how sometimes cocktails can illuminate history. How following the trail of one ingredient, or the perfect mix, you can come across some of the most interesting and, sadly, relevant, details of the past. I would take that a step further (and I will in a future post) that the story of our civilization could be told through the story of booze.
I might not be the first to notice the strong correlation between alcohol and exaggeration, but reading some Bourbon labels you might be led to believe Kentucky is the one true home of Bourbon, the kind Abraham Lincoln drank and drinking it is synonymous with freedom. Bullshit.